(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) Secret Fields is the debut from Neptune Skyline, and Empowerment Initiatives, a nonprofit group dedicated to helping those with mental health problems, funded the vinyl long-player. Apart from his mental health issues, songwriter John Michael Adams has spent time as a member of Bellingham garage-rockers the Kent 3, but his Neptune Skyline songs are of the delicate folk-psych variety, with calm, meditative tunes draped in an eerie gauze of rain mist. "Last Song Side One (Kelly)," is a definite highlight, a plainly gorgeous hymn wrapped in reverb that hints at a wrenchingly aching core beneath its placid surface. NED LANNAMANN

AROHAN, PRIZM, SOFT METALS,
MAXX BASS

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) It's a crime that local producer Arohan has yet to be snatched up by some prominent record label and thrust into the international techno spotlight so that dance enthusiasts everywhere can move to his beats. His tracks have all the elements of breakout hits—lasting melodies, irresistible basslines, and maximum funk factor that won't let your hips remain still. Arohan's sound is absolutely on the same level with big-name producers that influence the global scene, and don't be surprised if he's the next Portlander to join their ranks. In the meantime, any chance to see the man play in town for a ridiculously low cover charge should not be missed. AVA HEGEDUS

FRIDAY 11/13

(2410: 2410 N Mississippi) Blockhead's path to recognition was Aesop Rock, a NYC rapper whose path to recognition was Def Jux, the Def Jam of the 21st century. Blockhead has done production work on all of Aesop Rock's albums, two of which—Float and Labor Days—are underground-hiphop masterpieces. Blockhead's style is not usually the sort rappers enjoy or appreciate, as it brings a lot of attention to the music (the richness of rhythms, the depths of beats, the sad sweetness of strings) and does not merely function as a backdrop for the busting of rhymes. For this reason, it's not surprising that Blockhead's solo work has been released by one of the two most famous triphop labels, Ninja Tune (the other is Mo' Wax). Blockhead is all about that abstract shit, that hiphop for the head. CHARLES MUDEDE

BLACK HEART PROCESSION, BELLINI

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) About a decade ago, Tobias Nathaniel and Pall Jenkins—bandmates in Three Mile Pilot—isolated themselves deep within the forest of rural Washington to nurse a pair of broken hearts and make a record under the haunted moniker of Black Heart Procession. One of the few bands with a name that succinctly describes their sound (joining ranks with All Girl Summer Fun Band, the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, among others), the band's debut, 1, resonated with a fanbase of the romantically despairing, permanently lonely, or just generally depressed. In the time that has followed, BHP's uneven recorded output has varied from soul-shatteringly morose ballads of personal destruction to conceptual tales of noir crime. Fans might have strayed over the passing years, but the band's latest, Six, is back to beginning—a woeful pile of sadness for us all to wallow. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

(East End, 203 SE Grand) It's startling to think about how different both punk rock, and San Francisco, were when Negative Trend first emerged in 1977. Back when Milk and Moscone were still in city hall and West Coast punk was a barren landscape (this is pre-Dead Kennedys, mind you), Negative Trend expanded on the feral chaos of a shirtless Iggy with a distinct youthful flair. Like low rent in Russian Hill, Negative Trend was not built to last, splintering into Flipper, Toiling Midgets, and countless other under appreciated punk acts. But now they have returned, and if you squint closely enough in the cavernous light of East End's basement, it might feel like the late '70s all over again. EAC

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) Most any Misfits fan will tell you that Glenn Danzig is the heart and soul of the original band—he's the man solely responsible for creating the Misfits' trademark melodic horror-punk sound—so more than 20 years after his departure, the group's continued existence seems like a lifeless corpse being forced to stagger on like Frankenstein. Original and current member Jerry Only leads a lineup that now includes former members of the Ramones and Black Flag (the punk rock undead?), and to their credit, the present day Misfits are attempting new material, having just released a single entitled "Land of the Dead." But to an old fan, they still come across as zombies, feasting on the remains of your favorite band—so hard to watch because you once loved them, but now you need to kill them for your own survival. MARANDA BISH

JOHN HEART JACKIE, KELE GOODWIN

(The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie) John Heart Jackie is the lovestruck indie pop project of Jennie Wayne and Peter Murray. The duo just delivered the Women & Money EP, which plays off a pair of soft voices—his: cracked and damaged; hers: pristine and warm—that act as centerpieces to their intimate song structure. It's rainy-day bedroom music, the sweet soundtrack to lovers sleeping the morning away with limbs entangled. The EP is a wonderful start, and here's hoping their next recorded project expands on their sound a bit more. Or maybe they can save some additional range for a new project: Aristotle Heart Jackie, perhaps? EAC

(Bison Building, 419 NE 10th) The Portland Youth Development Coalition—an organization primarily dedicated to arts education—hosts tonight's charity auction, in which Tres Shannon from Voodoo Doughnut auctions off a series of glass orbs, each designed by different local artists. Meanwhile, the entertainment is provided by some names you might not immediately recognize, but whose faces you definitely will: The Dutch Masters are the backcountry acoustic alias of Courtney Taylor-Taylor and Brent "Fathead" De Boer, who you know very well from the Dandy Warhols. And Kevin and Anita Robinson are the married couple that fronts both Viva Voce and Blue Giant—apparently, two mere band names cannot contain them. This is their backwoods incarnation, with acoustic guitar and lap steel reinventing the pair's ever-increasing repertoire. It'll be a schmoozy affair, to be sure, but the open bar by Amnesia Brewing should hopefully loosen your mood—not to mention your purse strings. Just don't drop your shiny new glass ball on the way out to the car. NL

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) Many folk singers have covered the Civil War era and written Vietnam War protest songs, but few have chosen early American History as their muse. I suppose it could be the most romantic—what with fires and gallows and all those Puritans running rampant—and the Dimes have decided to prove it to us with their second full-length, The King Can Drink the Harbour Dry. The record stands as a well-composed history lesson about the early Boston area, complete with songs about fires, gallows, and Clara Barton, the nurse who founded the Red Cross. There is also pedal steel; I wish there was pedal steel in my American History class. The record release show, however, is not in Boston or a high school—it's at Mississippi Studios. Before you go, remember: Sam Adams was more than just a mogul for mediocre beer. RAQUEL NASSER

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) There's been this thing going on in the glitch scene where producers combine hiphop, '80s style synths, and huge bass. The result? Pandemonium on the dance floor. Tonight's FLUX party is a chance to see all the top producers that are defining this new "lazer bass" sound in one place. There are so many, the show needs both floors of Branx/Rotture. Here's the rundown: Lazer Sword is like Hot Pink Truth meets Eats Tapes. Dark Party is a side project of NYC electro-funkster Eliot Lipp. Brooklyn's Machinedrum makes catchy hiphop electro-pop. Megasoid is a rising duo that started as a mobile party PA (think Rob Walmart) and became infamous after a reportedly mind-blowing show under a bridge in their Canadian hometown. Megasoid's crew is called Turbo Crunk—a name so apt, it's been adopted for the glitched-out genre as a whole. AVA

PUSCIFER, SWEETHEAD

(Roseland, 8 NW 6th) Maynard James Keenan (vocalist for Tool and A Perfect Circle) works out his poontang-centric impulses in his Puscifer side project. On releases like V Is for Vagina and C Is for (Please Insert Sophomoric Genitalia Reference HERE) EP, Keenan indulges in a kind of cabaret-ish, chamber triphop with recessive metallic genes. It's not a million miles from the later work of Jim "Foetus" Thirlwell and Luaka Bop recording artist Jim White. Freed from Tool's meticulous convolutions and heavy bombast, Keenan as Puscifer explores a more intimate sound that exhibits greater seriousness and emotional heft than his cuntroversial record titles would lead you to believe. (A $75 VIP ticket allows you to enjoy a tasting of Keenan's "new wine." Yep.) DAVE SEGAL

SHAMBLES, SLEEPYHEAD, ADD MCS, DJ TAN'T

(Dunes, 1905 NE MLK) Sleepyhead is one of those unique, insanely talented hiphop artists that can charm both purists and the more casual, radio listeners of the genre. He'll make you want to get down ("I'm always staying about a half a step ahead of Satan/Portland Punch and a blunt, that's my medication"), make you laugh ("I just spit some bullshit with my liquor breath"), and most importantly he'll inspire you ("I'm sleepwalking through my daily routine and I don't speak nothing unless it's got true meaning"). Do yourself a huge favor and drink a Portland Punch with this guy at li'l Dunes before you're paying 30 bones to see him perform at big pimpin' Roseland and asking him to autograph your Awakeyhead™ energy drank. Word. KP

SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, FAUN FABLES (EARLY SHOW)

(Dante's, 1 SW 3rd) The aspect of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum that garners the most press is their vast collection of unique, custom-made instruments. And rightfully so. No other act features someone offering accompaniment on the "tangularium" or the "pedal-action wiggler." Their sound is what most of the press doesn't get around to, because the music of SGM is a mix of avant-metal, classical, and free-jazz—AKA the most nerdy and gratingly divisive mix possible. Throw in corsets, old-timey suspenders, and Juggalo-tastic whiteface, and you've got a band unlikely to court casual fans. Or dancing. Or not getting beat up at school. In short: If you dig a unique musical experience and you wear a bowler hat well, then maybe this is the show for you. If the phrase "steampunk dada-metal" makes you vom in your mouth a bit, steer clear. DAVE BOW

SUNDAY 11/15

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) "Cold Metal is not a band, Cold Metal is a mission," it says on Cold Metal's MySpace page. Uh, yeah, but I'm pretty sure they are also a band—one that just released a new EP, The Loveless Darklands, and an accompanying video for their seven-minute ballad "Lonely Girls." Lest there be any confusion, Cold Metal are not metal; they play a garden-variety darkwave goth pop with minimal chord structures and endlessly repeating melodies. Their ambition is plainly transparent, and they're committed to that particular, dark, faintly ridiculous worldview that made a lot of sense as a teenager, when you were discovering post-punk and industrial for the first time and painting your fingernails with black Sharpie. NL

DEAR AND THE HEADLIGHTS, KINCH, RAJIV PATEL, THE WELCOME HOME

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) It's hard to describe Dear and the Headlights because, well, they sound like everyone else. There's nothing here that you haven't heard before—catchy prog hooks, boisterous handclaps and foot stomps, anthemic group chanting—you know, indie rock. Yet, there's a very distinct craftsmanship here that strays from the usual muddle of copycats. Dear's latest, Drunk Like Bible Times, is very well produced; spot-on compositions full of vigor are meshed with catchy-as-hell songs to create tasteful rock that has been rehearsed, tuned, and whittled to perfection. Potential for originality exists, and while copying might tarnish a band's reputation (last time I checked it didn't), Dear and the Headlights are far from being affected. PHILIP GAUDETTE

THE WHIGS, THE FEATURES, THE DEAD TREES

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Are the Whigs patriotic by default? Perhaps my imagination overreacts when I hear the song "Hundred/Million" (on In the Dark, due out in 2010) and envision a marching band in Revolutionary War-era garb: tri-cornered hats, musket straps, and an American flag waving with just 13 little stars. Not to mention that they revolted against autocratic major label support in 2002 and self-released their first record. And, they've been dutifully running the tour circuit since (and probably long before) Mission Control came out in 2008, shouting into the night alongside the likes of Kings of Leon, Band of Horses, and other modern soldiers (on horses?). The metaphor has lost its steam. However, it is unlikely that the Whigs will have lost any steam when they come through town with Portland's own Dead Trees, rocking steadily through another 10-week stint on the road. RN

MONDAY 11/16

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) With the possible exception of Christian "crabcore" act Attack Attack! (who perform at the Hawthorne Theatre tonight; take a minute to Google these terms if you're unfamiliar—shit's hilarious), Brokencyde may be the single most heinous musical atrocity to emerge out of the past year. A four-piece joke from suburban "Albu-crazy," New Mexico, the act combine the worst elements of "emo" and "crunk" (off-key "emotive" whining and screaming, crap beats, two kinds of disrespect for the ladies) while looking like a Hot Topic vomited all over them. If you can watch more than 15 seconds of their breakout YouTube clip "Freaxxx," you are a champion of ironic appreciation. If you dare go to this show, you're just fucking crazy. ERIC GRANDY

TUESDAY 11/17

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) As one of Interpol's staunchest haters, it makes perfect sense for me to preview the Portland debut of Julian Plenti (Interpol frontman Paul Banks' new project). Well, hate is too strong a word to apply for my feelings toward the wildly popular New York band; indifference and astonishment over how such drab approximations of Joy Division and Kitchens of Distinction have become media/radio/alt-rock sensations would be more accurate. All that aside, Banks' solo debut album, Julian Plenti Is... Skyscraper, treads slightly more interesting ground than does Banks' meal ticket. Now, instead of grayscale, earthbound neo-postpunk, Banks is making grayscale, earthbound neo-postpunk with more electronic and orchestral embellishments. Hey, it's still better than Editors—I'll give him that. DAVE SEGAL

RUSSIAN CIRCLES, YOUNG WIDOWS, HELMS ALEE

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Here's a tip: Right now, go get the new Russian Circles record, Geneva. Now go home, put it in the CD player or load it into your computer or put it on your turntable or whatever, and turn it up. Louder. Turn off all the lights, lie on your bed or your floor or your couch, and close your eyes. And just listen. Do nothing else. This instrumental record is so goddamn overwhelming—from the booming bass lines to the soaring, buzzing guitar riffs—it shouldn't be listened to while you're doing anything else. It needs your full attention. And it's good that you're lying down. Because afterward, you're gonna need a nap. (Russian Circles play an all-ages show at 5 pm—complete with dubious-sounding "Red Bull bar"—followed by a 21-and-over show at 8:30 pm.) MEGAN SELING

NEON INDIAN, GUIDANCE COUNSELOR, TIGERCITY, REMY THE RESTLESS

(Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi) So, uh, how 'bout that chillwave, eh, guys? Chill enough for you? Austin/Brooklyn-based Neon Indian dwells in the more cartoonishly colorful, carnivalesque end of the microgenre's spectrum, making breezy electronica that sometimes wanders into the nightclub district, with compression-flattened drum-machine beats and synth parts that lock into on-beat arpeggios as often as they noodle off into the archetypically chill sunset. (Neon Indian sole proprietor Alan Palomo also makes more straight-ahead electro "bangers" under the VEGA moniker). The act's debut, Psychic Chasms, is pleasant listening, Todd Rundgren sample and all. EG

(Twilight Café and Bar, 1420 SE Powell) "Too drunk to die" and "dying of horniness" are a pair of slogans used by Portland's Rib Cages. Well, which is it, gentlemen? Will horniness be the death of you, or will your drunkenness prevail? For now it sounds like they're caught in a battle, which is the only thing audible in the onslaught of breakneck noise that is their live show. Frontman "Nation" howls the vocals while making 12 strings shriek as drummer "Kse" pounds the living shit out of the kit, making such a ruckus you almost don't notice that he's really fucking good. Also, he usually strips off all his clothes before playing, because laundry is expensive. Songs under two minutes like "Ain't a Woman Alive" and "Right on or Wrong" blast your ears off with little adherence to typical structure—just as you start to get a hold of one, it's over. You'll need to get your hands on one of their homemade tapes to make this feeling last. MB

(Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison) Despite a name that must lure its fair share of sexual predators and trenchcoat-wearing voyeurists, the Beat Off is a (relatively) wholesome competition where amateur beatsmiths battle it out for big piles of cash money. Contestants are provided a few sound sample options, a theme, and have an hour to make the best beat possible. Tonight will feature the best-of-the-best Beat Off'ers, all previous winners of the event, in a "funk"-themed battle for $600 to stuff in their wallets. In addition to the beats, there will be rhymes dropped in the front room courtesy of severely underrated emcee Libretto. Leave your trenchcoats at home, sicko. EAC